Somewhere Only We Know
by Coffee Reveries
Summary: 13 Years after their break-up, Spencer Hastings and Caleb Rivers meet by chance, again, both in search of something that is missing in each of their lives. Inspired by the lovely song interpreted by Ms. Lily Allen. This is a Spaleb or Spencer/Caleb love story, so please, spare me the hate.
1. The Cafe

**This is my first story in the PLL universe, although it will play at a much more distant/advanced time (and completely different context from the show). This story will be slow-burn Spaleb, my newest obsession. You can all just ignore season 7 for this story, sit back and enjoy the read.**

* * *

 _Caleb Rivers watched with a bittersweet sensation as Spencer Hastings waved goodbye to him, one last time, before turning her back and leaving his life for good. His only regret was really to not have done better by her, not been able to love her so deeply, such as she loved him. But still, he hoped that in her heart there would never be scars caused by him and that with the passing of weeks, months, years, their time together—first as the greatest of friends and then as lovers—would just be a passing, hazy thought—no pain or anger to feel or revisit, but perhaps nostalgia and only memories of the good times, the moments of happiness and pleasure._

 _They were young, with all the time in the world ahead of them._

 _He would go back to Rosewood to be with Hanna, the woman he had never ceased loving, and Spencer, she would go on with her life, her thriving career in Washington or whichever place she would choose to live in. He hoped with all his heart that she would find that person who thought of her first thing every morning and last thing every night—he wished for only love, laughter and joy to come her way, because she was a good person and she deserved perhaps more than anyone else he knew._

 _Spencer Hastings waved back at him, her heart in pieces. It seemed that not even with a flap jacket she was able to keep it safe from all of this pain and anguish. Most of all, she had never expected for all of this to come from him, her best friend—the man who she thought could finally be the one—the one she would love forever, the one she would marry and maybe raise a family with. The man who she thought of first thing each morning and last thing each night. She waited until she had entered the boarding area and passed the metal detectors, to sit on a chair with close to no one around her, hiding her crying visage behind her thighs._

 _ **Thirteen Years Later...**_

She looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror that early morning and could hardly believe that staring back at her with black bags beneath her eyes, bangs needing a trim and cheeks red from the cold winter air was her thirty-six year old self. The crisis she felt within today concerning her age was perhaps greater in intensity than all those years ago when on a day not too different from this one, she had awoken to being a mere thirty, and with her long time crush—a handsome, forty year old professor with a delicious stubble, laying asleep naked on her bed. Now she could finally say she was closer to being four decades old than simply three and as she looked around in her neat Philadelphia apartment—she found no other soul but her own.

A crush? She couldn't remember the last time she had had one. A boyfriend? She scoffed—the most recent relationship had been three years behind her. Children? Only a bittersweet afterthought she had one hanging up the phone after a long talk with Aria, or a furious Ali with hers and Emily's teenage son or her mother, Veronica, gushing about her brilliant and handsome grandsons, visiting her over in Rosewood. Though it was a feeling that never had lingered long enough, for her to say it was a longing or a void in her life that she had.

Spencer had managed things very well on her own. Perhaps even _too_ well. Even though she had been living in Philadelphia for three months now, she still questioned herself if it had been the right moment or even decision to finally return to her native country, after living so long in Europe and those unforgettable three years between South Africa, Tanzania and Egypt.

Sure, she had missed her childhood friends and her family, but she had always found a way to visit (or be visited by) them every other year and Skype at least once a month. To be quite honest, she had grown used to always being far away, to be the only one in the group living a free and adventurous life, while the others settled down, raised their families, worried about bills, juggling children and work...

However, every adventurer and traveler knows that time comes where one feels the need and urge to once again create roots. Quite easily Spencer could have planted those roots in her beloved Vienna, or Lisbon, or Cape Town or Zanzibar or Paris—but really, the roots already existed somewhere, had been left forgotten (yet undying) for too much time. Those roots were firmly planted in the state of Pennsylvania, within the borders of her home town of Rosewood and at most within the confines of the larger and far more comfortable for her cosmopolitan soul, _Philadelphia_.

And so Spencer Hastings cut her dwellings short, as she splashed water onto her face, beginning the routine she maintained every day of her life—washing her face, brushing and flossing her teeth, combing her long brown hair and applying a minimal amount of make-up on her face. Luckily today was a Sunday and she was only expected at her mother's chosen restaurant to celebrate her birthday in the evening, leaving her to follow her new tradition of each morning grabbing breakfast at the small cafe at the corner of her street, with her current book under her arm, letting the lazy day pass her by as she allowed herself to get lost midst the hundreds of pages.

…

She wore her favorite loose and comfortable wool navy-colored dress, black coat with the striped multicolored scarf Aria had gifted her several Christmases ago and of course, black stockings and well-worn leather boots. She looked at herself in the tall mirror behind her bedroom door and smiled, she looked delightfully Parisian, as several of her neighbors mistakenly thought she was, because their first impression of her had been to witness her talk furiously on the phone in rushed, fluent French to her former boss across the ocean in the city of lights. She glanced at the few lipsticks laying abandoned above her wooden dresser and smiled—she would indulge them and indulge herself with brightly painted, blood red lips.

Walking down the street lined with typical colonial Philadelphia townhouses and tall, naked trees—she whistled an old tune on her way to the cafe, passing elderly ladies, parents with laughing children and exhausted adults, some with cigarettes lit between their lips or fingers, walking their respective pets up and down. There were certain things that did not change from place to place, and the busyness of this street Spencer had chose to live on, with all of it's people, animals and passersby—this could well be a scene straight out of London, Berlin or Johannesburg.

She arrived at her destination and immediately a warmth invaded her. Her skin even beneath so many layers tingled and her senses filled with pleasure at the rich scents of coffee, ginger, cinnamon and fresh bread baking from inside the kitchen's rustic brick oven. There was a small number of people in the cashier line, yawning mothers out for a few minutes' break, business men with their phones perpetually glued to their ears, university students out for a treat before a long day of studying (or fun, who knows) ahead of them. She caught eye of Mrs. Skipwith's twinkling brown eyes, landing onto her form and smiling appreciatively at her unfaltering presence. The elderly lady, the cafe's English proprietor, who had settled in Philadelphia years ago waved at her with a smile playing at her lips, passing the next customer his order of apple and cinnamon pie. Spencer waved at her with a smile of her own and made her way for the only available booth by the windows, with the pleasant view of the street.

Moments later Mrs. Skipwith arrived with Spencer's large mug of black coffee and her own breakfast tea, which Spencer had never been able to appreciate.

"My darling Ms. Spencer—so I hear it is your birthday." She says with a growing smile, pink cheeks growing darker from joy. Spencer looked at the older woman and hoped she could age half as beautifully and life-loving. "All the best to you my, dear." She turned back to look at one of her employees, the rather clutzy college student, Jacob, who came bearing a giant red velvet cupcake with a colorful candle. Mrs. Skipwith's mouth formed an 'oh' as she saw her small gift for one of her favorite customers (and neighbors), quietly clapping her hands together in elation.

Spencer's cheeks darkened into a dark shade of crimson as she eyed Mrs. Skipwith and Jacob both, well knowing that many of the other cafe customers had their eyes on her. She closed her eyes and blew out the candle, with a small wish (more out of habit rather than belief) in her mind. A split second later as she opened her eyes—she was dumbfounded to have right within her line of vision the familiar form of a man she once knew very well, one she had even at some point loved.

And then her phone rung loudly from inside her coat pocket and she willed her eyes to leave his person, as she tried to grab the thing midst old receipts and car keys inside. On the bright screen, her mother's name was written, most probably to wish her the not-so-first happy birthday of the day.

She didn't take the call, instead pressing the red button on her phone screen and once again allowing her brown eyes to land on him. Mrs. Skipwith didn't even bother insisting for her to bite into the cupcake already—she noticed the nervous shaking of Ms. Spencer's hands and the sudden pallor that took over her lovely face as she saw the man who walked in, hands dug inside his brown coat pockets and an at least week old beard.

The young man coughed dryly for a moment, not knowing what to say, a look of utter and sheer surprise grazing his features. He walked towards Spencer's table and it was then that she noticed the curious young little girl in a bright red coat with polka-dots following him, swinging brown ponytail and all. He smiled warmly at her, seeming to be genuinely happy to see her after so many years.

"Spencer, hey! What a coincidence to run into you right on your birthday." He said. In another time he would have perhaps rested a hand on her shoulder or quickly ran his fingers through her dark hair, maybe even pulled her in for a hug. Now, he buried his hands in his pockets once more, not knowing quite well what to do with them. "Happy 36th birthday, pretty girl." He said with a smile.

"Thank you Caleb, really. It is undoubtedly a huge surprise to find you here... on this day especially." Her eyes shyly wandered off of his handsomely aged features landing onto the child half-hidden behind him. He noticed and chuckled, pulling out his hand to politely introduce the little girl.

"Olivia, sweetie, this is Spencer, she's an old friend of daddy's. Spencer, this is my daughter—she'll be four tomorrow." Spencer forgot completely about her cupcake or Mrs. Skipwith watching everything from the chair right across from her. She forgot all propriety's sake as her eyes searched the little child, Olivia, for any sign of her blonde and beautiful mother. Instead, all that Spencer found were brown eyes identical to her father's, rosy cheeks from the cold breeze outside and an adorable cleft chin that was all Caleb as well.

"H-hello Olivia, it's a pleasure to meet you." The little girl eyed Spencer and nodded shyly at her remark. The action could only be translated as 'okay, I think it's a pleasure to meet you too, Ms. Weird red-lipped stranger'. And then the big, brown doe eyes panned straight towards the delicious looking birthday cupcake. Spencer couldn't help but smile. "Mrs. Skipwith, do you think we could get an extra plate and fork so Olivia here can share this delicious cake with us?" Mrs. Skipwith nodded quickly and hopped immediately out of her seat with an energy that Spencer had seldom witnessed on any person of her advanced age.

"Thank you." Caleb whispered, to which she only nodded. As he pulled two extra chairs from another empty table, Spencer's eyes quickly assessed his left hand. No golden band, no ring of commitment anywhere in sight... But then again, at this time and age, what was marriage and a ring anyway?

* * *

 **Thank you for reading and please, do leave a review! ;)**


	2. Best Friends

**I would like to thank Patricia for giving me just about the best review ever. You cannot imagine how motivating and heart-warming receiving your comment was. Thank you and please keep them coming! Thank you's also go to Thisgirladen for her support. Here's to hoping you will both enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Spencer Hastings was soaking in her bathtub the afternoon of her birthday. She had lit a few vanilla candles throughout her bathroom and put on some old blues songs to play on her phone. She tried to relax, hell, all she wanted was to have a nice, pleasant day, but running into Caleb Rivers like that, after such a long time and so out of the blue... It really served to put her mind on overdrive.

They had both been polite and pleasant towards one another and really, Spencer saw no point in giving him the cold shoulder—not with their history and certainly not in front of his daughter. So she had played along and had asked the little girl what her plans were for her birthday the next day. Olivia Rivers had lit up and smiled at her question, which now that Spencer thought about it, was a lovely smile, the heart-melting kind, one that even Spencer was not immune to. Olivia kept going on and on about how her daddy would take her to see the penguins at the zoo. Olivia loved penguins almost as much as she loved puppies and that was the gift she had been trying to unsuccessfully obtain from her father for so long. When Spencer had raised her eyes to curiously question him as to what was wrong with having a dog, Caleb sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. The reason was that he traveled a lot for work, Olivia always coming with him and a puppy would only complicate things. Spencer had nodded, understanding his stance and so she purposefully changed the subject, as to not complicate things even further.

Deep down she had desperately wanted to question him about Olivia's mother, as she hadn't been mentioned once. Since Spencer hadn't heard from or spoken to Hanna Marin in a decade, it was challenging to hold in the list of things she wanted to ask—had he and Hanna separated? Was Hanna not in her daughter's life? Spencer had a hard time imagining Hanna Marin not being the completely loving and devoted mom, so she thought that only something as grave as a death or an illness would allow for her former best friend to be apart from her child. Perhaps if it had been just the two of them, Spencer and Caleb, that moment in the cafe, she would have certainly questioned him about it—but not knowing their story and how much a simple question could affect Olivia, she chose to stay quiet... _and God_ was it torture.

Spencer was suddenly disturbed from her thoughts with the sound of desperate knocking on her door, simultaneous to the vibrating of her phone due to a call. She quickly got out of the tub and wrapped a white towel around her wet and soapy body and tried to answer her phone on time, despite the her humid and slippery fingers against the sensitive screen.

"Hello? Hello, who is it?" More frantic knocking on her door.

Spencer rushed towards it and flung it open only to find a completely tear-stained, sobbing and shaking Aria Montgomery across the threshold, phone on one ear and clenching a large leather bag with the other hand. "Aria, _Jesus_ , what happened?" Aria pushed past Spencer. She was in such a state that she couldn't speak. So Spencer still in her towel locked the front door behind them and made a beeline for the kitchen to put the kettle on and for the meantime to grab a glass of sugared water for her friend to calm down.

A good twenty minutes later they were sitting across from each other on the small kitchen table, pouring their teas—chamomile for Aria and hibiscus for Spencer. By now, Spencer had already excused herself to go get changed—it was winter and her apartment with all it's heating still couldn't keep her from feeling the dangerous cold, so he pulled on an old blue cotton shirt, her favorite pajama pants and wool socks that Aria had gifted her last month. Aria the knitter, she thought with a gentle smile. She wondered what could be the matter with her closest and dearest friend, she dreaded the worst, a possible A comeback or a sudden death in the family... Not for a minute had she imagined her 36th birthday would be so eventful and drama-filled.

Aria's left hand was in Spencer's, who gently traced circles onto her friend's fair skin, as they sat there in silence, Spencer waiting with all the patience in the world, for her miserable friend to open up (a patience that she had gained with the years, albeit with a lot of difficulty).

"You must think I'm crazy..." Aria whispered, finally, not facing Spencer but staring out the kitchen window as she spoke.

"Anything but and you know it. Aria, we've been through thick and thin together, you know I'll always be on your side..." Aria sighed, albeit shakily, trying to regain the courage to speak.

" _Umm_ , Jason and I—we're... We've been fighting a lot, you know, the past year or so..." Spencer nodded, a cold dread washing over her features. She thought she could imagine what would be coming next, but decided to wait. "I think I want a divorce."

"You think you want a divorce?" Spencer's tone wasn't mocking or judgmental, in reality she had simply repeated her friend's words, just to be sure she had heard correctly—still, it came as a shock to her that the one couple she thought would never break up, would always stick together were in the middle of such a crisis. Aria nodded, taking a long sip of her tea. "So neither of you has filed in for it yet?" Another nod.

"I figure I should be the one to do it, before he walks in one day with a stack of papers for me to sign..." Aria explained, looking defeated. Spencer nodded in understanding, although seeing her friend in such a state was bewildering... Aria who was always so passionate, determined and strong. Aria who had never been afraid of fighting for love, with all it's trials and tribulations.

"Oh, my little one, is that really what you want? Do you not have any love left in you for that _monument_ of a man?" Aria snickered at this, for once thankful for Spencer's dark humor. "I mean—does it really just take a rough patch and some stupid fights to end a marriage?" Aria shrugged not knowing the answer to it herself. All she knew was that she hadn't felt like Aria in a long time, she hadn't felt like anything other than a mother, homemaker and an utter big, fat nobody.

"I just—I need to find myself again, Spence... I—I gave everything I had up for this marriage, my degrees, my work, my writing. I gave it all up to raise my family and take care of my kids... To the point where I look at myself in the mirror and can barely recognize myself. I'm not happy, and I realize that I haven't been in a _very_ long time... And now it's even affecting my kids..." Her voice broke again and Spencer braced herself for another row of tears and sobbing. She got up from her seat and pulled her friend in for a tight, warm hug, rubbing her back in reassurance, mentally begging the gods for something good and useful to say. She honestly had no idea how to help her friend overcome this problem, but she loved her so very much as Aria's arms wrapped around Spencer's neck—like a little child who was afraid and seeking the comfort of her mother.

"Spence—we haven't had sex since Agnes' second birthday." She mumbled with a tone of embarrassment in her voice. Now this was something to worry about, considering Agnes, if Spencer's estimate was correct, turned five in a couple of months.

With that remark, Spencer finally understood what was going on—Aria didn't feel like a woman, she no longer felt comfortable in her own shoes, she no longer felt satisfied in any areas of her life... And this for someone who had always been so bold, creative, life-loving, romantic and sexual... it could only be the equivalent of living in a gray scale, frustrating and utterly monotonous hell, where nothing ever happened, where things never changed, where time never passed and the desired _right_ moment, never arrived. Spencer had been there, she had felt like this before and God she didn't wish it on her worst enemy... Depressed was just a simply fucked up thing to be.

"Aria, that was three years ago..." Spencer stated to her, pulling her back so that she could look into Aria's brown eyes. "What the fuck? How come you never told me any of this before?" Aria sighed, pulled back and leaned into the back of the chair, deciding that her fingers deserved far more attention than her concerned friend.

"Because I didn't think you'd understand, I didn't think it would matter to you. Spencer, your life is fucking perfect."

"Aria—what are you _stupid_?" Spencer exclaimed immediately. "Honey, you are my best friend—everything about you matters to me, everything about you is important. _You are important."_ Spencer raised Aria's chin so that she would face her. " _And_ Aria, my life is not perfect, far from it, although yes it's quite different from yours. There are so many things that you have that I want so badly—roots, those beautiful and quirky little monsters you call kids, the house with the yard and the tons of pets... You're amazing, Aria. You are fucking amazing and I love you. I'm just so sorry you can no longer see that..." Aria turned her face away from her friend and hid her crying self in her hands, shoulders shaking.

…

Three hours later they were both sprawled on top of Spencer's big, fluffy bed binge watching "I Love Lucy" episodes, snuggling into each other like they hadn't done in a long time. Aria would often giggle or snicker at the goofy shenanigans of the show's protagonist, only to notice that Spencer didn't, in fact, she seemed all too distant and pensive. Aria grabbed the remote and shaking Spencer from her thoughts, turned off the television.

"Spencer, quit brooding and tell me what's on your mind." She said, in that tone she usually reserved for her misbehaving children.

" _Caleb Rivers..."_ She mumbled and Aria's eyes went wide and her skin went slightly pale.

"Well, _why_? I mean, you haven't mentioned him in years..." Spencer sighed.

"Because I ran into him this morning at my cafe, the one at the corner, you know..." Aria nodded. "I think he took some 'how to be hot and sexy' tips from your husband by the way..." She dragged on with a dry chuckle, which earned Spencer a slap from her friend, but a smile Aria Montgomery could barely hold in.

"You know what, that kind of makes sense..." Aria said after a moment, "I think I heard Toby mention he'd be around this month. Apparently he's consulting for the Philly PD on a cyber-crime case of sorts." Spencer froze at this.

"So you knew?" Aria shrugged.

"I didn't think it was all that important, plus, I could have heard Toby wrong as he was all the way across the Brew from me." Spencer nodded. "What's he been up to?"

"Well, he mentioned traveling non-stop for work and, well, he's also got a kid."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Spencer opened the drawer from her nightstand and pulled out a napkin with a drawing on it, made from blue Bic-pen ink. "Olivia Rivers, almost shares a birthday with me." Aria looked at her quizzically. "She turns four tomorrow."

"Oh, so she's not Hanna's daughter, then." Aria blurted out with a tone of immediate relief. This made Spencer freeze for a moment, until she slowly turned her head to look at Aria, who was chewing on her bottom lip as she usually did when letting a secret or important information slip, brown eyes wide like a deer caught in red lights.

"What are you talking about?" Aria sighed.

"Spence—Caleb and Hanna divorced about eight years ago."

"How did I not know this?!" Spencer said, her voice becoming louder with each word. "Aria—how did I not know THIS?" Aria flinched at her friend's tone of voice and even at the involuntary growl she elicited.

"Well, in my defense you were all the way in Africa at the time with your boyfriend... and seemed to be going really strong. It had already been a long time since you and Hanna had fallen out of contact and I just... _let it slip my mind_?" Aria's eyes pleaded with Spencer for her to comprehend, but she didn't even realize, still taking in all of the information.

"Look Aria, I get it all right—you never approved of my relationship with Caleb, not only that, you didn't support it either. And I get that it's because I had put you all in this tough position because _Spencer versus Hanna_ for stupid Caleb's love and Uber A driving us mad... But I loved him Aria, I really did and I would have really liked to know." Aria nodded.

"I'm sorry." Aria whispered finally with tears in her eyes. Spencer looked at her and then her features softened, her whole resolve softened... How could she stay angry at her best friend?

"I know, little one. Just keep me posted about things, okay? Even if you think I'll be upset." Aria nodded and Spencer kissed her cheek. "What time is it, by the way?"

"Half-past six?" Spencer's eyes went wide.

" _Shit, shit, shit._ Aria, get the _fuck_ up—my birthday dinner is in _thirty_ minutes!"

…

Caleb arrived at his apart-hotel carrying his sleeping daughter in his arms. They had had a long day of apartment hunting, on a cold Sunday which made things worse. He put her down on the bed, his little girl, and just sat there, completely transfixed at how utterly perfect she was. He gently removed her red converse sneakers and socks, making sure to count, as he did sometimes, all fingers and toes. He smiled gently at her, his only family, his most precious, precious thing.

In just a few hours she would be a total of four years old and he could hardly believe that so much time had passed them by. Soon, Olivia would have to be enrolled in a kindergarten, which meant that his _gypsy_ _days_ , as his mother all the way in California put it, would have to end. And God it had been hard to bring her up all on his own. The first few months, learning how to properly take care of a baby and falling into a routine with her had been hard... but nothing had prepared him for the actual childhood part. Olivia could walk, talk, play and entertain herself very well on her own, but that also meant that she was her own person, with her own quirks, manias, faults, virtues and problems. And that puppy-wanting thing that Caleb had been hoping was just a phase that she would get out of was dragging on, a proof of just how stubborn she was... which brought to mind the woman he had encountered earlier today.

Spencer had looked fuller than he remembered, less on-edge and she had kept the bangs which he was not complaining about—they suited her beautifully. In fact, she was beautiful, period. And _God_ how she looked gorgeous with those bright red lips. Caleb had never seen her wear such bold colors on her face... which showed that she had changed in a way—that she was perhaps more confident in herself and probably more fearless than ever.

After meeting up with Spencer and awkwardly intruding on her birthday celebration (and stealing some bites of her cake), he couldn't shake her out of his mind. God he was old for this. Maybe not old, but he should be more prepared or immune to this—to being thrown such an exquisite blast from the past in the form of Spencer Hastings and have that suddenly seem to turn his life upside down.

He stared at his phone in his hand—how so very tempting it was for him to just call her... But he wouldn't, because last time had simply hurt enough.

* * *

 **Reviews = Love**


End file.
